Escaping Fate
by let.the.cards.fall
Summary: 25 years after Katniss escaped the 75th Hunger games, we find that Katniss has become president of Panem and is desperately trying to find a way to keep the districts in line. No one has any better idea than reenforcing the Hunger Games, putting Katniss and Peeta's son Fletch in danger. Can Fletch find his way through his parent's 1st annual Hunger Games?
1. Prologue

**Author's note:**

 **Hello readers!**

 **Thanks for reading this. The Hunger Games are an important trilogy to me so I figured I'd say a few words. This is set after the death of Snow and Coin in an alternate universe where Katniss is the president of Panem and Peeta is the ambassador to the districts. They have a son that went rebellious like most teenagers and ran away. He resides in the rebuilt District 12.**

 **I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THESE CHARACHTERS SO THANK YOU SUZANNE COLLINS!**

 **I wish I could write series' like her or any of my favorite authors. *coughs* *JK Rowling***

 **Anyway, thanks for reading.**

 **-LTCF**

Panem

25 years after the 75th Hunger Games

Prologue: Katniss

There is a knock at the door.

"Miss Everdeen," Effie, my secretary, says. She knocks once again, and in her uptight, high-pitched Capitol accent she says, firmer this time, " _Miss Everdeen_."

I quit pretending to be asleep and sluggishly replied, "What?"

"Miss Everdeen," Effie's voice rises on the word "Miss" and falls on the word "Everdeen", "There are _many_ things to attend to today and sleep isn't one of them."

I sigh. Unfortunately, my job as the President of Panem is a job that takes my personal time and sleep in its claw and evaporates them. I shake my head and finally manage to stand up.

I get dressed, and Effie is standing at the door. I don't say a word to her as we walk down to my office.

After President Snow was defeated and Coin was killed, someone needed to take high office. I voted Haymitch or Effie, but everyone else voted for me. As a board, me, Haymich, Effie, Peeta, and the rest of the victors who were still alive decided to rebuild all of the districts and distribute all of our food and resources equally. All of the districts would keep the same jobs except for luxury, and luxury would be replaced with more agriculture. We would use the river in District One for more water supplies.

"Today, you have a board meeting with the other victors with the already pressing issues. Next, you will collect the reports from all of the districts on supplies and food. Haymich needs a meeting and...are you even listening to me?!" Effie exclaimed. I whipped my head around at her.

"Sorry, just trying to process everything," I mumble, "Board meeting...reports from the districts...Haymich…" I say going over the agenda like a list in my head.

"Good," Effie says as she leads me into the board meeting, "Ill see you in a few hours."

 _Hours._ The word rung in my head. _I just hope that Haymich has some beer._

* * *

"Welcome, everyone," I say flatly.

Among me sits Finick, Joanna, Beete, Peeta, Haymich, and all the other victors that have survived.

"As you know, we have important matters to discu-" I say but am cut off by a familiar and curt voice.

"Why? Why bring something back that almost entirely destroyed our nation?"

Peeta.

"Im not saying that we are going to bring them back, im just saying we need to lay down some ground rules! This is a developing country, and we need to show the people we are the boss!" I exclaim.

"Here we go agin," Haymich mutters under his breath.

Peeta is the ambassador to the districts, which basically means that he hast to show me beyond my ignorance on almost every decision I make. And I say almost.

"Well, you need to find a solution before going back to that extreme!" Peeta yelled.

"I know! So if anyone here has any ideas, please speak now!" I roared.

No one spoke.

"If no one has any ideas within the next five days, I am reenforcing the Hunger Games," I breathe angrily:

"Meeting adjurned."

Effie awaited me outside the room. She saw my stormy expression and decided to stay quiet. She simply lead me to my next meeting.

District 12 was rebuilt 10 years ago and is still used for coal. Unfortunately, even with resources being distributed equally, 12 is falling way behind.

The Hunger Games. Me, the Mockingjay, the county's savior, have to reenforce it? Now I see what Peeta sees. A rebellion could already be on the rise. People could already have it out for me.

 _But it has to happen,_ one side of me thinks.

At this moment, Effie bursts in.

"You are going to be late for Haymitch!" she exclaimes.

I rush out, migraine already forming.

"Ah, finally," Haymich says as I enter.

"You'd better have a drink," I almost demand.

Haymich laughs a drunken laugh.

"Not so easy to be queen of the world is it?" he says, waving his invisible wand. I sigh as Haymich hands me a beer.

"Are you crazy?" he flat out asks me. My head swivels around to face him, giving him a questioning look, "Or is it the pressure…"

"What?" I ask.

"You are even considering bringing it back. Something that will haunt you for the rest of your life!" Haymich exclaimes.

"I would make the ages a bit more fair. Only 16 to 18 and more proper training. Only the fittest will go into the games," I say firmly, sure that my decision is the right one.

"You do realize that your son would be in danger," Haymich says, trying and failing to soften the blow.

Fletch. I think about him, living in District 12. He ran away from his life with me and Peeta. And there were good odds that he would be chosen. He would be 17 this year.

"I know. But it's not about me personally. It's about the country. And it has to happen."

And unfortunately, Haymich knows I'm right.


	2. Choices and Voices

**Author's note:**

 **Hello again! Thanks for reading that first chapter and continuing on (That was the prologue. This will be chapter one). I wanted to let you know what has happened in the past 20 years and how Panem rebuilt itself into New Panem. I gave you Katniss POV and hope to revisit that. Know that I may be switching POV's in the middle of the chapter (Not this one though). I will let you know in bold if I do change POV.**

 **Thanks,**

 **-LTCF**

District 12

Reaping Day

I light a cigarette. No one notices.

I began collecting restricted items in spite of my mother. Even though she says she still has some 12 in her, she has completely changed. She comes by and visits 12. She says she is just on business, but I know she is here to check up on me.

Peeta tried a bit harder to connect with me, but it just wasn't genuine. He hasn't given up, but he won't have to even try once i'm killed in the Hunger Games.

Yeah, I know it's hard to call, but based on how little our population of 16 to 18 year olds is here, the odds are not in my favor.

I sit up in my bed, cigarette clenched between my teeth. I notice a bottle of beer next to my bed as smoke billows out of my mouth. I have a bad hangover.

I've heard all about how smoking is bad for you, but if I'm gonna die, my mom will give me the advanced medications to treat me. Because she "loves" me. Like I believe any of her stories. She just wants to keep me alive long enough to turn me back. She thinks she may be able to bring me back home after the games. But I'd rather die than go back with her.

I sluggishly swing my legs over the beer stained sheets and open the smoky drapes. Nothing like the smell of Reaping day, I think even though I've never even experienced a Reaping.

I casually walk downstairs and down the street. I reside in the Victor's Village. It was never bombed by the Capitol. Smoke filling my charred lungs, I continue down the street.

Its early. 5 am, it seems like. I breathe in the fresh air, knowing these were my last few hours in District 12. And I would spend them going insane.

My head hurts from my hangover and I can start to feel a migraine in my temples, so I go to the one place I go to drown my sorrows and sink myself into oblivion: the wine cellar.

I trudge back to my house and down the stairs. I smell the sweet, sweet smell of whisky and know I'm in the right place. I open the door to the cellar and see the bottles lining the sides of the room. I pull out one of my favorites, one that I've been saving for a long time, and drown it in one go. I begin to feel dizzy, and soon collapse into the chair that I have positioned perfectly for scenario's like this. I grab another bottle, not my favorite, but still just as sour, and drain that one too. And another. And another. I laugh hysterically, then fall into a deep, drunken sleep.

I wake up and find that I've slept until around 8 o'clock. I slowly and shakily stand up and make my way up the stairs with a beer in my hand. I step outside, fresh air filling my liquor stained, smoke charred lungs once again. I decide to take a stroll.

It's foggy, but I can make out a helicopter landing in front of the Justice Building. I already know who's on board. _damnit_ , I think as I duck back behind a wall, leaving a trail of smoke from my mouth. I hear voices from down the street.

"...important for the district that I'm here," I hear my mother's voice as she walks off the helicopter.

"I understand but they may think you're bias."

Oh great. Peeta.

"I know. But I just have to see him before they ship him off to the arena," Katniss says.

They're talking about me.

"If you really want to keep the peace, you shouldn't be here, sweetheart."

Haymich.

"Fine, I'll go back to the Capitol. I just have to talk to him. He could be safe from all of this. I could make him safe," Katniss says.

"But you can't," Peeta argues, "You'd put him and yourself in more danger."

I stick the cigarette back in my mouth and step out with my hands in the pockets of my jeans.

"Looking for someone?" I ask innocently, blowing smoke into their faces. They both cough hysterically as I stand there as if I was doing nothing wrong.

"Boy, I hope they let me use my cigarette in the arena. I could burn the whole place down!"

Katniss reaches for my cigarette but I snatch it away.

"Ah ah ah!" I cackle insanely. I've always wanted to do this, "Have you forgotten you 'please' and 'thank you's?"

Katniss shoots me a glare and I return it. Haymich laughs.

"Now, can the two of you stop this?" Peeta says angrily.

"Ah, I've almost forgotten about you, Peeta. Always trying to be the hero. Her hero," I say dreamily, fluttering my eyelashes like a little schoolgirl. Peeta turns around, his face flushed with anger. Haymich laughs, uncontrollably this time. I smile, knowing my job is done.

"I just wanted to say goodbye!" Katniss screams. Everyone goes silent.

"So this is your doing. You're going to send me into the arena because you hate me," I say, calmly at first, take in a shaky breath, then I yell, "You are the one behind this! You want to kill me! You want me dead!"

My eyes are filled with rage and insanity. I can feel myself boiling to a point that I've never reached. I let out a cry and lunge at Katniss uncontrollably. As we struggle, Peeta tries to rip me off her. Then Haymich begins to help Peeta, and the two men drag me off her. Katniss is in some state of shock.

"You're right," she breaths, almost to herself. Then she looks me dead in the eye and whispers coldly, "I do want you dead."

* * *

I watch as my mother orders her minions around, setting up shop in 12. The Justice Building turns into a wonderful masterpiece. I notice that she has recently added two bodyguards to her protection unit that used to only consist of Peeta.

The citizens that were within the age limit staggered toward the Justice Building, not have had nearly enough food this morning, me, among them, have had nothing for two weeks. I notice one of the guards puts a sandwich down, and I snatch it. Hunger has driven me insane.

Soon, as it most of the time does, it rains. But this time it's raining hard. The bullets of water hit my frail build. They seep into me, weakening me to the point where I go up to my mother and ask for a blanket and some food. The other 5 kids follow me.

Peeta and Katniss give us food for our families, even though I don't even have one. She lets the others go and bring the food home before the Reaping. Katniss sits me down.

"Look," she says, staring deeply into my eyes, "If you get chosen today, it is not my doing. Everyone here has there name in there once. The odds are just...not great."

I nod, the knot in my stomach just tightening, my muscles clenching, my jaw setting. She sees me do this, knowing I'm uncomfortable. She scowls, playfully, trying to make me feel better, but it doesn't help. And then, for the first time in years, I do something.

I cry.

The tears come as I lean into my mother. She takes me in her arms, just as Peeta comes in. The three of us embrace, for the first time in years. And I realize something. It feels so good to be loved.

"I-I-I'm sc-sc-sc-scared," I say between sobs.

"We'll help you," Peeta says softly.

"We'll help you," Katniss echoes, and I know that's the only sentimental thing she could say.

I break away from both of them. I look deeply into Peeta's eyes with genuine hurt and sorrow because I know only he will respond to what I'm about to say.

"Promise me," I say, "Promise me that you will help me."

"I promise," Peeta says and I believe him. Katniss nods.

I glance down at my watch and see that it is 1:50 pm. The reaping is set to start in 10 minutes. I sit up.

"You need to get back to the Capitol!" I exclaim.

"We're staying here," Peeta says as he puts his hand on my shoulder to relax me.

"We need to get going," Katniss finally says after a long silence. I nod. I hug the two of them one more time and head outside.

* * *

The air is crisp as I step outside, even if it has stopped raining. I look at the five others standing there, two boys and three girls. I'll be the third boy. I wipe my eyes, quickly reading their looks. Some of them look like they have been crying with their parents too. I quickly take my place among them. Katniss looks out from the balcony, our national flag, the Mockingjay, hanging from the sides.

I see a cameraman give her a "3, 2, 1," and she begins over District 12's live speakers:

"Welcome, one and all, to the first annual Hunger Games in New Panem!"

She says this while not breaking eye contact with me. I already know she hates this.

"The board and I have decided to reinforce the Hunger Games, but in a much safer way. Tributes will be spawned into the arena at different areas with a pack and the weapon of their choice. However, if any weapon too extreme is chosen, the Tribute will have no weapon. There will be a list of weapons available.

"Only the fittest Tributes will actually make it into the arena. However, if you do not try your absolute hardest to get into the arena, you will automatically be put in the arena.

"Each tribute will have an individual trainer that will only focus on them and their strategies. The tributes will also be given a mentor and stylist.

"There will be sponsors from the districts, and anyone wishing to come to the parade of the tributes will receive transport. Please speak to your mayor.

"And finally, may the Hunger Games begin!"

She steps down and the fake applause comes from the sound effects. The cameras turn to the six of us.

Effie is our announcer.

"Hello and welcome to the Reaping in District 12!" she says enthusiastically. I could tell that she is excited about having her old job back.

"As you just heard from our President…" I didn't bother to listen. It was only until Effie finished that my ears perked up and my stomach dropped as if it was an anvil.

"As usual, ladies first," she says as if this was the 76th Hunger Games. Effie walks over to the girls bowl and grabs the first name. Her eyes flicker as she read it over to make sure she's reading it right. She looks confused and saddened. She walks back over to the microphone and in a small, shaky voice, she says this:

"Mist Abenathy."

Haymich turns around. Katniss and Peeta exchange a glance. I think, Goddamn, Haymich is dead.

Without a word, Effie heads over to the boys bowl. She draws the first name, not even bothering to ponder over it, just praying that it isn't who she thinks it is. She reads it like she read Mist's card, and with tears in her eyes, she calls out my name:

"Fletch Mellark."

Goddamnit.


	3. Goodbyes and Train Rides

**Author's note:**

 **Hello again! Thanks for continuing on with this story. This will be Peeta's perspective (Sorry if the perspective was unclear last chapter). Sorry this AN is so short.**

 **Best,**

 **-LTCF**

District 12

Reaping Day

I begin to panic as Fletch walks up to the podium. I glance over at Katniss, and as usual, her face is a stone. Why did she do this? I ask myself.

The truth of the matter is, I have been asking myself that same question for two months. I see Katniss as a leader, but not of this office. Of this broken country. She is going to brake herself before the pressure breaks her.

Fletch puts a scowl on his face, mimicking his mother's expression. The small crowd laughs. A smile curves my lips.

Fletch walks over to Mist, an apologetic look in his eyes. Effie asks them to shake hands, and as the anthem plays, they turn toward the crowd and throw their clasped hands into the air. They're fighters this year, I think.

A pit forms in my stomach where my lunch should be. I hadn't given Mist a thought. I feel terrible inside for Haymich. But what's even worse is that we can only bring one of them home.

The two of them are ushered away to the train by the DSA (District Security Administration). The DSA knew their parents would be on the train with them. No one to say goodbye to. Similar to me. I didn't have many visitors, only one, in fact. My father. He didn't say much, more of "good luck." He was quiet, but our bond never broke. That is unti he passed. I shake my head, kicking the thought out of my brain.

Haymich throws Katniss a look, and I know that look doesn't come from a place of love. More like living hell. Katniss doesn't even see Haymich. She stares ahead.

I have to mentor my own child through a death maze that I have experienced and will never forget. I have brought this on him. I have killed my so-

A voice tears me from my unsettling thoughts. A farmiliar, and just as upsetting one.

"Katniss!" Gale yells, "Katniss!"

The DSA holds him back. Madness creeps into his voice as he yells her name. Katniss finally breaks and walks over to him.

"What?" she says in a low and curt voice. Her teeth are clenched.

"I just have to see you," Gale says, panting from fighting through the officers. Katniss orders them aside and lets Gale through.

They embrace, old, long lost friends. I see Gale begin to fight tears, Katniss doing the same. I watch.

"Gale. I miss you," Katniss says, "I missed you."

"Look, Katniss, I'm so sorry. I just had to. They would have killed me. I co-"

"I can't hear this anymore Gale."

"Just let me explain!"

"No, Gale-"

"I didn't know how to operate the plane! It did what it wanted! I tried to break it, disable it, because I knew you were down there. Prim was down there! I can't live with myself!" he begins to cry.

Katniss hugs him again, "It's not your fault. It couldn't have been your fault."

Suddenly, something about Gale changes, something flipped his rage switch, and he changes topics.

"Why would you do this?!" Gale asks, jerking around to keep from strangling her, "Why the hell would the Mockingjay, the country's savior, the Victor, do this!? My son is at that reaping!"

"It's what I had to do," Katniss says, keeping calm. Gale breaks this time.

"You're just as bad as the Capitol! As Snow! As Coin! AS ME!" he roars, "Yeah, I may have killed Prim, but its not nearly as bad as you!"

Katniss orders the DSA and they take him away.

"This isn't over! This is-" Gale says as he's dragged away.

I stare at her in disbelief. I try to walk over to her, but I couldn't move.

"Are you okay?" I ask her cautiously.

"I just watched my only friend until the games go insane. Because of me. Yeah, I'd say I'm fine."

The only thing I could think of to say is, "I'm sorry," and I say it. I truly feel bad. I stare into her eyes, and it makes me remember the bread. Her pleading, 12 year old eyes, I just…

Then I remember what happened afterward. I rub my forehead, where the rolling pin struck, the memory consuming me.

"Thank you," she says.

We board the train with Effie, Haymich, Fletch, and Mist. I jump immediately to the conclusion that lovers is out of the question. Katniss and I have to do something with him alone. He can't help Mist, not if he wants to survive. Haymich and I have a lot of talking to do.

We all sit in silence. We all know what has to happen. Finally, Effie speaks up.

"Dinner is in an hour. Get yourselves personable."

She leaves, the room, followed by everyone else but Katniss. She looks at me, that longing from her 12 year old eyes still present. I touch her hand, and it seems like she appreciates it.

"H-h-h-h-he'll be okay, right?" she stutters, fighting tears to keep her dignity. I rub her hand softly.

"I promised him, and now I'll promise you. I won't let him die. I can't. It would destroy me," I say opening up for her. She feels a sense of comfort, something in her eyes tells me so. She looks at me, confused, then a bit scared.

"How do you always know what I'm feeling?" Katniss says to me, looking deep into my eyes.

I think about my answer for a moment and shift closer to her, putting my arm around her.

"It's your eyes. Your face may be a stone, but it is through your eyes that you show your emotions."

She ponders what I have just said. I watch the gears in her brain start to move. She begins to respond.

"Okay. I'll try to change that," she says, smiling to herself.

"Good. I'll be expecting a full fledged report on how it's going by Friday," I say, joking.

She laughs, a good laugh, one that sounds like it's care-free. But I know it's not. She always has him on her mind. Her expression darkens.

"You know we can only bring one of them home," she says slowly.

"I know."

"And you know that Haymich is going to rip our teeth out in our sleep?"

"I know."

"And you know that the probability of Fletch's survival is 0.01% or something?"

"I know."

"But you still put effort into saving him?" Katniss questions.

I think about it. And the answer is yes. No matter how hard I try, my better judgement gets the better of me.

"It's the right thing to do," I say. Katniss sighs.

"We always have to do what's right," Katniss says, her face relaxing into her usual scowl, "I'm kinda sick of it."

She makes me smile.

"Yeah but you're ex-Mockingjay/president, so you are obliged to do your duty to our country. And since I'm that head-over-heals-for-Katniss guy/Baker's boy, I have to do that as well."

She laughs again.

As we sit in the train car, I look into her gray eyes. The sun is setting as we watch it silently from the front car. Her gray eyes absorb the red and orange in the sunset and the colors fill her eyes. Her eyes are on fire.

I stare at her in awe. She sees me do this, and she enjoys the attention. She beams, holding her head high in an "I'm too good for you" position. I scoff at her behavior.

"Katniss-" I cock my head figuring out what to say, "You-"

Pause.

"...haven't changed since the first day I-"  
Pause

"...I saw you."

I sigh, waiting for her response.

"And you're still the baker's boy," she says, trying to be witty, but failing and instead sounding sentimental.

I enjoy her sentimental side much more.

"But, I find in some way, that the games have-I guess-changed us. Yes, I still may be the baker's boy, and you're still-"  
Saying 'the girl from the seam' crosses my mind but I quickly throw the thought away and shake my head.

"You're still the girl on fire. But somehow the games has manipulated us in the smallest of ways. It has been driving me insane trying to find what's changed."

She nods. I know she's thought about this too.

"You're stronger. Not physically, but mentally. You handle yourself very differently than before the games. And I'm-"

She stops. She pretends she knows, but I know she has no clue how she's changed.

"You are less emotionally unstable," I say.

She punches me, and I deserved it.

"Ya know, Mellark?" she says.

"What is it, Catnip?"

She sighs at my nickname, then continues, "We should enjoy the time we have left."

"Now that is something I can support."


	4. Bright Lights and Big Fights

SHOUTOUT TO MintedMagic38 FOR THE AWESOME COMMENT!

Two Weeks Until the Hunger Games

The Train

I have to kill him.

As I lay in bed, the words run through my mind over and over like an answering machine on rewind. It would be fine if I was any other person going up against him. But I'm not. I'm me.

I contrast myself as the answering machine keeps running. I can't kill him. I can't kill him. I can't kill him.

It's hard to put yourself in my situation. Killing your best friend, or even watching your best friend die.

Trouble is, I don't know what he's going to do if we meet up in the arena. Form an alliance? Kill me? He'll probably have an easier go at it.

I finally convince myself to roll over and look at the clock. 6 AM. Well, I think, I slept better than I thought I would.

I climb out of my bed and head to the dining car. I am starved. I barely ate last night because of my nerves. Now, I realize, I just have to accept that this is my fate and there is no escape.

As I enter the dining car, I see Fletch and tuck my hair behind my ear. I stare at the floor as if it's a box of Panem's finest chocolate and shuffle to an empty table at the other side of the room, in a chair facing the opposite direction of him.

"Chose isolation without an invitation," Haymich mutters all smart-aleck-y. I snort, loud enough for only him to hear. He snorts back.

"What, you two having a snort battle? I'm surprised the tickets aren't priced higher!" Katniss laughs and I hear Peeta slap her. She provides no comfort to me. I hear Fletch slap her too.

Fletch walks over to my table and sits right in front of me. Way to go, hot shot, I think, you just made things so much more uncomfortable.

"Hey," is all he says. I tuck my hair that is already behind my ear behind my ear again.

"Hey," I say as I stare the floor.

"Why didn't you sit with me?" he asks.

"I…" I trail off. I don't have an answer.

"No, no. It's okay. I just figured we could strategize with our mentors."

He used we. Referring to a team effort. As in him and me. Team.

"Suresure," I say too fast. It sounds like I'm saying one word. I blush and tuck my hair behind my ear again, even if it's already behind my ear.

He helps me stand up because I'm weak in the knees, and we both walk over to the big table in the center of the car.

"Join us, please," Fletch says to me so kindly I thought I'd pass out, "Let's get you some food."

He motions to the servant in the corner for more rolls and jelly. She simply nods and disappears into the kitchen. She returns moments later with a basket of rolls and jelly. I stare at it, my mouth hanging open, my eyes wide.

"...what do you think, Em?" Fletch asks me, using my nickname.

"What?" I say, confused.

"I said, 'what do you think?' about what I just asked you," he says.

"Uhh…" I stutter. Fletch beckons me to continue. I take a bite of my roll and jelly and think about my answer.

"What was the question again?" I ask like an innocent schoolgirl, then with my mouth full say, "By the way, these rolls are amazing."

"Uhh, you got a little something…" Katniss says and Peeta slaps her once more. I realize what she's saying and hastily wipe my mouth. Haymich laughs, and Peeta slaps him.

Ohh! I think, My shoes are fascinating!

I look up for a split second and notice that Fletch is looking down too. All the adults are staring at us and talking in low whispers.

"Time to pull out the spirits!" Haymich announces, promptly taking out a mini vodka bottle out of his shirt pocket, a bottle of wine from each of his boots, and his fake wallets that were hollowed and filled with beer. I groan as Fletch laughs immaturely. I'm glad he can be happy in this kind of situation. When we get to the arena, he'll be jumping for joy. I shake my head and storm out of the room.

"Wait!" Haymich calls, "You forgot to take a refreshment!"

I flop onto my bed. This day's already got a bad start. Who knows what else is in store for me?

I hear a knock at the door. Its Fletch. I can hear his foot tapping.  
"Whaddya want?" I question him angrily, opening the door.

"Uhh….uhh…." he stutters.

"Come on!" I say. I'm so fed up with the situation that I'm boiling over.

"Uhh...I-I I guess I'm sorry. For acting that way."

"Well, you shouldn't have!" I say as I slam the door in his face.

"C'mon, Em," he used my nickname again, "I was just fooling around. I know it's not a joke."

"Give me some time."

I lay there in my bed for what seems like hours, maybe even days. I finally gain the courage to sit up and find that it's only half past 12:00. I groan and decide to get out of my room.

The games has a new system this year. The trains have a new car, a training car, with almost all the training supplies they will have in the capital.

At this stage in the game, I cannot win with pure strength. I need to start to get in shape. I tell my father to tell the conductor to take the long route. I'm gonna need all the time I can get.

I start by improving my quickness. I do that by testing my reaction time to certain scenarios. I improve my fight response so I don't have to use flight response so often.

I then improve my hand to hand combat skills. I jab inwards instead of swinging around. I work on anticipating a hit and how to react to it.

I next teach myself basic survival skills, such as how to build a fire without giving away my location, how to climb trees, how to camouflage myself, and the best way to evade attackers, no matter what surroundings I'm in.

Finally, after installing all the basics, I work on my archery and sword skills. I use axes, bows, and swords of all different shapes, weights, and materials to train me for whatever weapons they put in the arena.

After all the training, there is 1 day left until we arrive in the Capital. I spend this day watching the reapings over and over, trying to point out strengths and weaknesses within the short clips I had.

Finally, we arrived. As we burst out of the tunnel, it was almost hard to see the buildings at our speed. The thing I did see were the lights. The beautiful, blinding lights coming from all over the capital. It was as if they were trying to blind their citizens from the dark meaning of the games.

We step off the train, and immediately the atmosphere slaps me in the face. My ears feel like they are bleeding because of the blaring music. I can barely hear my father's voice over the music:

"Welcome to the Capital."

 **(Short) Author's note:**

It has been a while since I updated. Sorry this chapter is on the shorter side; I promise to give a longer one soon. Thanks for continuing to read!

 **-LTCF**


	5. Interviews with Different Views

Fletch

13 days until the Hunger Games

The Capital

Every sound fades into the blur as I step off the train. I try to follow my parents but it proves to be difficult. I swim my way through the paparazzi and into a door that says, "Tributes and Staff Only".

The room is soundproof, so in an instant everything is back to normal. Em and I both sigh in unison. The only thing I can think of to say is:

"Didn't expect that."

"Me neither," Mist says.

We all see that there is a hallway continuing to the Tribute Center. Effie beckons for us to follow. Her elegant headdress barely fits in the small tunnel.

The tunnel does eventually get bigger. I can see that it once was a tunnel for the network of trains. But among other things I notice, I see the Mockingjay symbol printed on the wall in blood red almost every 2 feet. Katniss and Peeta just walked as if this was the norm for them. Mist and I hang back without saying a word; exchanging thoughts like Was this once their reality? Will it be ours next?

We finally emerge in an alley parallel to the Tribute Center. It stands 12 stories and is one of the tallest buildings in the capital.

We quickly cross the bare street not wanting to be noticed. Katniss swiped her I.D. card and we were ushered inside as the camera crews came into view. We all breathed a sigh of relief before entering the elevator.

We make it to Floor 12 and I collapse onto the couch. I sigh in exhaustion. Katniss looks over my shoulder.

"You're already tired and you're not even in the arena yet."

I groan, then snort.

"Whatever," I say and roll my eyes.

"Just saying," she says as she turns and walks away. Em clearly sees my frustration and decides to stay out of it. I thank her with my eyes.

* * *

The next day, after a "good" night's rest, we see our stylists. I don't plan on having the connection my mother had with hers. And I don't. His name is Boran, and as a guy he sees my approach. He's friendly, but not too friendly. He's really skiddish. I tried to move toward him, and he jumped back, on instinct. He shows me my outfit. Simple. Just a red suit, black shirt, red tie. I can tell this guy doesn't want to start anything. Playing it cautious. Guess he doesn't wanna end up like Cinna. Smart guy.

Em doesn't seem attached to her stylist either. I ask her about her, and she just turned and walked away. We're both cracking under the pressure.

I turn and sigh. I need some fresh air. I walk out onto the balcony and look over the city. Most of its destroyed from the rebellion, but the part that isn't is glowing with energy. It's a Friday, so I'm not surprised people are out.

"Hey," I hear a familiar voice say.

I don't even turn. It's Peeta.

After a solid minute, he says, "Just thought you'd appreciate some company." He joins me at the ledge. We stare into the city.

"I know how you feel."

I begin to bite back, but he stops me.

"I've been here before. I get it. Feeling like no one has your back anymore. Feeling like you can't even trust your best friend. You're going to feel those feelings. But you can trust that you have so many people back here rooting for you the second that horn sounds in the arena."

I just nod. I hope he knows I can't say anything because if I do, all my emotions will pour out.

"Keep your head high," he says as he walks away. I nod even though I know he can't see me.

* * *

I wake up to the sound of feet scuffing against the carpet outside my room. I groan and sluggishly pull myself to my feet. Today is the Tribute Parade and the interviews.

"Coming!" I say to no one.

We scarf down our breakfast and get dressed with our stylists. Boran jumps as I open the door. I change quickly, comb my hair, and am out the door. Boran also jumps as I close the door Poor guy, I think.

I see Em, and she is in a black dress with gold and red streaks in her hair. I stare at her. She tucks her hair behind her ear, and I look away.

"Hi," is all I can muster.

"Hi," she says back. I take her hand, and we make our way to the elevator. It's as if we are at the school prom we are missing because of the games. I nervously scratch the back of my neck.

We are escorted to the chariots. Ours is black as night. Boring, I think.

We get onto the chariot. The other districts go first, then it's our turn. We roll out from under the stage.

The crowd is cheering so loud it's blaring in my ears. I turn to Mist, who has a pained expression on her face from the noise. We try to keep a straight face as we emerge.

All of the sudden, our chariot catches on fire. Fire! I begin to panic, but realize that this is make-or-break for sponsors. I grip Em's hand, and to give my mother a taste of her own medicine, I raise my arm. We both keep a straight face. We will not be denied, I think, We will be remembered.

We finish our round and come to a stop before the council of the games, including both our parents. The applause dies down as my mother lowers her hands.

"Welcome, everyone, to the first annual Hunger Games of New Panem! Tributes, thank you for your valor; and your sacrifice. Happy hunger games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

The applause comes roaring in once again like a tidal wave. We roll underneath the council and back to where we started.

I quickly rush back to my dressing room to prepare for the interview. For this I wear a standard black suit, a black shirt, and a black tie with the Mockingjay symbol imprinted into it in red. I laugh inside my head. I'm wearing the symbol of rebellion, and it's still only the first games!

The other tributes are in the holding area, preparing for their turn onstage with Caesar Flickerman. He somehow managed to stay alive through the rebellion. I will be the last tribute to go.

The other tributes put together sappy, unbelievable stories that bored everyone. But for me, there's a catch. I didn't prepare anything. I figured I'd just go up there and tell the truth.

Em went up there and told some jokes about her father, nothing too interesting. Finally, they called my name.

"Please, give a warm welcome, to Fletch Mellark!"

The audience applauds. When it finally dies down, Caesar asks me my first question.

"So, Fletch, how has it been in District 12? We haven't heard from you for a while!"

"The district is getting better. They're doing a good job rebuilding it, they're just a little slow."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The marketplace might still be on fire."

I get a laugh from the audience, because they think it's funny that the district is still burning to the ground 18 years later.

"Now, what are your opinions on bringing back the games?"  
Great. Polotics.

"Well, I may have a bias, I'm going in in a few days!"

Another laugh.

"In all honesty, are you afraid?"

I think for a second. All eyes are on me, waiting, watching for a hint of fear. I finally respond:

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"No. The odds of me surviving are not great. I've began to accept my fate."

Silence.

"Well, everyone give another round of applause for Fletch Mellark!"

The applause are weak.


	6. Scores become Chores

**PLEASE READ THIS A.N. IF YOU PLAN ON FOLLOWING THE REST OF THIS SERIES!**

 **Hello readers,**

 **Once our tributes enter the arena, I am going to be doing short blurbs in some chapters taking you to the gamemakers and some important Katniss and Peeta stuff, but primarily the next chapters will be Fletch and Mist's perspective. I will use this symbol to show you a change in perspective from now on:**

* * *

 **The charachter's name and location will be stated after every use of this line.**

 **Thanks,**

 **-L.T.C.F**

Chapter Five: Katniss

The Capital

2 Days until the Hunger Games

I scream as I wake suddenly from a slumber full of terrifying dreams. People dying, Fletch dying, none of our tributes making it. Everything falling apart. But the worst of it was when Peeta publicly executing me. He was leading the rebellion against me.

No one can be trusted anymore.

Peeta jolts up and turns toward me, his face troubled, reading, Not again.

"Another one?" he asks, his eyes full of pain.

"Yeah," I say, missing his gaze by a millimeter. He looks confused.

"Don't worry," he says, and for the first time in this endeavour I hear uncertainty in his voice, "We'll get through this-together."

You don't know that, I think in my head, you'll never be able to know that.

For the first time, I look at the clock. 6:30 AM. Early enough to be up. I get presentable and walk into the main area. Fletch and Mist are both up already, but I had figured that. After all, today was Scoring day.

And I'll be scoring them.

Breakfast is brief, with a few words of good luck and well wishes exchanged. Haymich, drunk as hell, says nothing. This must be his way of mentally preparing and shielding himself for what's to come.

Fletch and Mist prepare themselves, Fletch dressing in a red and black tank top and black pants with boots. Mist dressing in a thinner tank top with the same colors and black leggings with boots. The number "12" is ironed onto the back of their shirts. Peeta and I send them off with a "see you later".

Haymich, Peeta and I meet with our appointed Gamemaker, Ottos Koyvew. He's not insane, and he plays fair, so we figured he'd be best.

"Good to see you all again," Ottos says in his Capital accent.

"Same," I say weakly. It's enough. We have a short debriefing about what today is for, which is to show how good/bad the other tributes are, so that strategies can form for other tributes. Ottos just sits and listens.

Finally, the first tribute comes in. She is strong and extremely fit and muscled. I think back to when I was standing there my first year, weak, sick, but ready. She picks up a bow, loads it with three arrows pointed at three targets, fires, and hits all three targets right in the middle of the nose. She next sets off the moving targets and obstacles and shoots them all in the eye. I applaud politely. It wasn't bad.

The next boy is extremely muscled with abs. He picks up the trident, and spears the targets, right where the girl before him had.

District 2's girl uses the ninja stars, and 2's male wields a sword. That just about rounds out the careers, I think.

3 uses technology to set off pyrotechnics, 4 uses spears, and everyone else is pretty much useless. Finally, Mist walks in.

She's quiet, and there is an offset to the timing of her walk. She doesn't look up at us, not directly, at least.

"Mist Abenathy, District 12," she says weakly. I look at her sympathetically. She feels it and turns her back to me.

She picks up the axe, stumbling. It's too heavy for her. I brace myself for the worst.

She finally gets adjusted to the weight, and slings it over her shoulder. Haymich has left the room in embarrassment.

Mist grips the axe by the end of the handle with both hands, sweat running down her face, a determined look in her eyes to prove us wrong. Just like I did, I think.

She aims at the target and takes a few practice swings without releasing the axe. She finally draws the axe into a ready position. She breathes, in and out, in and out.

Finally, she fires.

The axe spirals in the air, rotating 5 or 6 times. It finally strikes the target, hitting it dead in the chest. We all turn to face her. Peeta and I look at each other instantly. I give him the, Didn't expect that! look.

She takes another axe and throws it sideways without the warm up. It strikes the dummy in the side of the head.

And, for her grand finale, she takes the axe and hits the target with such force that it knocks it over. It must have rotated 7 or 8 times. The thud of the dummy crashing to the floor brought us back to our senses. I applauded politely, even though i'm terrified on the inside. How's Fletch gonna survive that? I think.

She bows, full of pride, and exits the room with a huge smile on her face. Fletch looks confused at her elated expression, but indifferently shrugs it off.

"Fletch Mellark, District 12."

He looks up at me, and I look away. I can't show him compassion. I can't make him weak. Unfortunately, Peeta does all of those things for me. He waves down at Fletch and shoo's him off to go do his thing. Fletch nods, then goes over to select his weapon. He grabs a sword, weighing it with his hands. He adjusts to the weight, and sets up five dummies in a circle around him. He takes a breath, closing his eyes. He winds up.

He first cuts a dummy's arm off, then spins and cuts off a head of another dummy. He then swings around and up and cuts another arm. He swings down and cuts a leg, and for the final dummy he stabs it in the chest, the blade sticking out of the back. He takes a heavy breath and turns back to me. I give him a single, firm nod of encouragement, and he leaves the room. I sigh in relief.

We score the tributes, one by one. I try to be as fair as possible to all the middle tributes. I knew they'd be gone soon. I sigh in relief as I leave the building, the fresh air filling my lungs that had been filled with the hot, stuffy, sweaty training room air.

"Thank God we're out of there!" I hear a voice behind me.

"Hi Johanna," I say.

"You know what?" she says as she cuts me off from the open street, "I don't even care that you started the games. But I sure as hell care that we had to spend FIVE HOURS in that awful smelling, lung collapsing, heck of a room to watch people SHOW OFF THEIR 'TALENTS'!"

I groan. Not again.

"I actually would prefer to be in the games rather than watch from beyond," she says, acting a little more sane this time around. She walks away. I sigh.

I feel a pair of hands touch my shoulders. I begin to jump away, but I recognize them as Peeta's. Phew.

"Sorry I jumped," I say.

"We're all a little paranoid at this point," he says. I still haven't turned to look at him. I hear pairs of reporter's feet coming from about a block away.

"We have to go," I say.

"Yeah, I know," he says back. He already knew what I was going to say. He pulls me in tighter. I put my hands over my eyes. The pressure of the situation is building to a point where it's overwhelming. His neck rested on my shoulder.

"How are we going to do this?" I break away after a long pause. We cross the street, Peeta still contemplating the, or any answer. And for the first time, one of his answers doesn't bring me comfort.

"I don't know," he says honestly. My stomach sinks. He really doesn't know.

I've tried to put the truth aside for weeks, but now there is nothing I can do but face the fact that I put this back on our country. That I am no longer the Mocking. I'm no longer the young, ignorant, stubborn 16 year old they fell for. I'm a hopeless adult who just made the worst decision of her life.

The bad part is, I can't do anything but watch it unfold.

We return to the Tribute Building and go up to the penthouse, or Floor 12. Fletch and Mist are already home. I plaster on a fake smile, and everyone reads through it, but pretends not to. We hold conversation for a minute, until I back off into my room. I just need to relax and take it all in.

I shut the door and heave a sigh of relief. I turn the TV on and scroll through the various districts until I find the one that I am looking for. The woods of District 12. This makes me think of Rue so much, the way she was so quick in the trees, the way she smiled, the way she laughed…

Prim. It was always Prim. She melted away from me because of the rebellion I helped start. I was not going to let that happen again. No rebellions, no questions.

"Thank you Prim," I say, because Prim just reminded me of why I started these games.

I need to avenge her.

I need the rebellion to pay.

I need to avenge Prim.

 **COMMENT WHAT YOU WANT TO HAPPEN NEXT!**


	7. Departs and Quick Starts

Chapter 7

Mist

1 Day to the Hunger Games

I wake up very early, but that was expected. After all, we're leaving today.

I find that it's three in the morning, and ultimately decide (after many attempts) that I can't fall asleep again. I sigh, because I know I will need all the energy I can get today. I shrug it off, muttering to myself about the "adrenaline rush" that I'll get in the arena.

I throw on the most comfortable clothes I own, and make my way to the balcony. The city lights are still on, people are still partying.

"The festivities never end in the Capitol, do they?" a voice says, breaking the silence that I was enjoying.

"Hi dad," I say, obviously annoyed.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart," he says sarcastically, like a line from a famous movie, "This is your last night with me. At least try to enjoy it."

"I was, until you showed up," I say, but I can't stop myself from running up to him and pulling him into an embrace, probably the tightest hug he's ever given to anyone.

"I know, it looks daunting now, but think about what a story it'll make later!" he says, and I sigh. That was his way of saying 'you are going to live'. He doesn't know this for sure but he is trying to be hopeful, so I accept it.

"Thanks, Dad," I say awkwardly. Then, just as awkwardly, he pulls me into another hug. I pinch my face tight to stop crying, but it doesn't work very well. I pull away early.

"See you later," he says, trying to joke but it doesn't come out funny.

"Bye, Dad," I say. I turn around, and think to myself, I may never see him again.

"One more thing, _sweetheart_ ," he says. I turn around and look at him.

"Stay alive."

This year the stylists prepared us before we boarded the hovercraft. I kept asking my stylist why, but he never answered. I sighed and shrugged.

I board the hovercraft that will transport us to the arena. I don't look at Fletch, I don't look at the other tributes, and I most certainly don't look at the needle that is injecting the tracker into my arm. I wince. I've always been afraid of needles. I look over at Fletch, and he doesn't look too good either. His breathing is heavy and rapid, and he is sweating bullets. I try not to look at him, not to remember that I'll have to kill him soon-

The guard's voice breaks through my thought: "Come on, then. We'll be landing soon."

I shake my head to wake up, and take one last look at Fletch before I stand. I look around, wondering why the other tributes aren't standing. Fletch is holding his head in his hands, like I'd done something wrong.

"Alright then. Looks like we've got our first jumper!" the Guard says enthusiastically.

"Wait. W-w-we're jumping?"

The guard laughs at me as my face turned pale. Were jumping? I think. Why in the world would we be jumping?

"New twist the president has ordered. Everyone jumps off into the arena. Your outfits will fly you to your pod. Remember, if you jump off early...well, lets just say it will be an explosive end to your games," the guard explaines with a chuckle.

Well, I'll be jumping I guess. But so will everyone else. Unless it's a trap. The battle of scenarios goes on and on through my head until Fletch's voice cuts through the battlefield.

"Mist, you have to jump."

I trust him. I trust him. I trust him. I think.

I take one last look at him and hope it's not the last time I do. Then I let go of everything, all thoughts, movements, close my eyes, and jump.

* * *

Katniss

The Capital

"Alright people, first jumper has landed safely," Ottos says. I sigh with relief.

"Who was it?" I ask.

"Abenathy, District 12," he says. I almost jump out of my skin. Not a chance he's telling the truth. Is he?

"Mist? How-"

"She was brave, Katniss. That's all we need to focus on. Everyone needs to be brave at this point," Peeta whispers in my ear. I shut up, because at this point, my big mouth won't do me much good besides get me in more trouble with everyone else here.

The arena the gamemakers chose this year was very interesting and complicated. The arena was divided up into 12 sections, much like the arena Peeta and I had in the 3rd Quarter Quell. However, each section represented each district. For example, the District 4 section is a beach, with a huge swell creating up to 10 foot waves. The District 5 section is full of oil drills and fuel, making it perfect for getting supplies for a fire. I, however, wouldn't recommend lighting the fire there.

There is a catch: all the tributes land in the section opposite of their own. So to get to comfortable terrain, the tributes have to go through the other tributes coming from their section.

I look at the big screen and see Fletch landing next to Mist, in the District 6 section. Thank god he's safe, I think, relief washing over my face. I look over to Peeta and see the same look on his face. Personally, I think his face looks better relaxed.

We have been a mess all morning. Truthfully, everyone here has. These games are very important and must go smoothly, or I'll loose control. I'm about to loose everything anyway, I think, the idea of trying to block the truth out being thrown out the window.

I see the tributes from 1 and 2 landing. Lust, Silk, Ryker, and Alana. Maybe he can take them. Maybe.

I really hate the word maybe. It does't provide security in my brain. It only makes me worry more.

3 and 4 are next. Their names slipped my mind, because they were very insignificant. They'll be lost in the bloodbath, I think, in horror of my own idea.

The rest of the tributes land. I look at each of their faces, think about all of their families, all of the people we will loose through this. All of the lives I will lose. All the families I will destroy. All of the districts I will tear into pieces. All the fires I will ignite.

"All tributes have landed safely, commencing countdown," Ottos says.

The pit in my stomach grows with those words. This can't be happening, I think, not now, not ever. I shouldn't have done this. Peeta was right...

"10, 9, 8…"

Our tributes look around, scared and alone.

"7, 6, 5…"

Our tributes look around, the competition grows larger, looming over them.

"4, 3, 2…"

I think about just meeting Fletch again, after all those years of him on the run. I think about how I may never see him again. I think about how I can get through this next month. I want to yell at the gamemakers to stop this, to stop it all, but I don't have the power.

"1."

Let the Hunger Games begin, once again.

Hey guys! Thank you for reading once again! It brings a smile to my face to read your awesome feedback! This chapter was very exciting, and I have big plans for future chapters. Please leave criticism, feedback and general comments down below! I want to hear what you guys want to happen next. I will try to update more often, and I'm sorry this chapter was so late. Please keep reading! Thanks again!

-L.T.C.F.

Also, I do know this chapter was short, I just wanted to get something out quickly. Sorry!


	8. Burns and Turns

Chapter 8

Fletch

Day 1 of the Games

I look around and begin to panic. My eyes wander around the arena, however I am clueless to its theme. Mist stands next to me, breathing heavily.

This year, the Cornucopia is surrounded by tall grass. I lean down to touch the tip, and a sharp pain runs through my finger. It's not much, but when I look at my finger, it's bleeding. The grass is sharp.

All of the sudden, I glance over the gleaming Cornucopia and see the entrance to the mines of District 12. I begin to question the game maker's sanity levels.

The voice of the announcer comes on, counting down from 20. This year, apparently, they had chosen a man with a very high voice. I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh, but a small chuckle came through anyway. The other tributes immediately looked my way, some laughing, some confused, some with an evil look in their eyes. I just stare at my feet.

Some of them must be thinking that I'm an easy target. After all, what harm can a lousy tribute from District 12 do? I start to believe myself when the announcer hits 10.

I scramble to regain my senses. I see a sword laid right out in front of me. I try to calculate the amount of time it will take me to reach it, but every bit of knowledge I once had has disappeared. It is now purely survival and wit.

"5. 4. 3. 2. 1. Let the Hunger Games begin. "

The air horn sounds and everyone takes off. I stand still for a split second, thinking. Then I take off toward the sword. I see that someone else has gone for it, so I dive right as I got close. Then, performing one of my maneuvers, I flip over the sword, grabbing the handle as I soar past it. I then land on my feet and stabbed the tribute that was going for the sword. In a rush, I grab a backpack, not considering the contents. There are some careers to my left, right in front of the District 12 mines. To my right is Mist. She's only a few feet away, and she's armed with an axe, her favorite weapon. It is streaked with blood. I quickly decide to team up with her. I grab her hand, which is shaking and sweaty, and pull her straight toward the careers.

"Stick your axe straight out. They'll move if they're smart," I tell her.

"And what if they don't?" she asks.

"Kill them."

We start running forward at an intense speed, but the careers don't budge. They hold their own weapons out.

"Get ready," I say.

We barge through their group, swinging our weapons every which way. A few of them are killed. We were lucky.

Then, I hear a scream. One of the careers left a huge gash on her exposed shoulder. I grab her uninjured arm and pull her toward the mine entrance. Behind me I hear cries and shouts in agony. I glance back at them, and I see one with a deep gash on their forehead, one with a cut through their arm, and another with a gash running across their leg. I feel my cheek, where the careers barely scraped me and I pull away my hand. I feel something sticky. I pull my hand away, and my entire arm is covered in blood. I scream, just barely, but then I remember I have to push through. For Mist. For Katniss. For Peeta. For everyone.

I keep running through the tall grass. My clothes are getting ripped by the sharp points. I hold firmly onto Mist's hand, mostly though because it is giving me stability, for I am feeling lightheaded. Blood is splattering all around us, paving a direct path to us through the grass. Shit, we've got to cover this up, I think.

Mist and I reach the beginning of the forest that blocks us from the entrance to the mines. I pull her a good mile into the shelter of the trees, just to be sure we're not being followed.

"Okay, okay," she says, panting between her words, "What do we do now?"

After I've caught my breath, without saying anything, I open up the pack I grabbed. It hadsa canister of water, a sleeping bag, a flashlight, a medical bag with bandages, medical tape, and some creams that I don't bother touching, and a pocket knife (Which I secretly tuck away. Only one can win.). I see that the contents of hers are identical to mine. Besides the pocket knife. I reach deep inside the bag ot make sure there's nothing left inside. My hand brushes something on the bottom. I feel the shape of it, and it is rectangular. I run my hands across the sides of the box. This feels so natural for some reason, I think. Then my hand hits something rough, and I finally realize what this is. A matchbox, I think. And I feel now right next to it is a pack of cigarettes. But how did they know?

"Mist, I'm gonna look for water. This will be a good place to set up for the night. Start setting up the sleeping bags in the trees," I say.

She stops bandaging her arm to look up at me. Her big blue eyes look at me in pure terror and uncertainty. She thinks I'm gonna pull something, doesn't she? I think.

"We're a team then, aren't we?" she asks nervously.

"We're a team," I tell her.

"Shake on it?" she asks. I nod. She sticks her hand out, and I hold it and shake it.

What she doesn't know is that my fingers were crossed behind my back.

I take the pack with me to go find water. Once I get a fair distance away from our "camp" I sit down and take out the matchbox. I open it up, and find a piece of paper inside. Its a note. I take it out and read it:

Dear Fletch,

Congratulations on surviving the bloodbath. We didn't think you'd make it this far. Well, Peeta did. But I had no faith. Anyways, as you can tell, the arena is split into 12 sections, one for each District. I could imagine by now that you have made your way into the District 12 one, based on the mineshaft entrypoint. The way these games will work will be different. Peeta and I have planted different resources for you within the game map. Follow the map in the matchbox to each of the different locations. Don't bring Mist with you. Don't tell her about this note. By now I expect that you two have an alliance, but don't let love blind you. Only one can really win this game. You are not going to be able to let this one slide, especially since you are my child. So, you have three simple tasks: 1) Follow the map. 2) Don't trust Mist. And most importantly-3) Stay alive.

-Katniss (and Peeta)

I take the note and burn it. I next pull out the map of the arena, and now I can clearly see the 12 sections of the map. Our section was at the top of the map, and the rest of the sections worked like a clock. There was a path from our district to another location, probably district 3-technology. The "x" on the map is centered atop a small building. I have never been to District 3, so I have no idea what it is. Maybe it's their weapon storage or something? I think.

I decide to explore the mines first, just to set up a "home base" for us. So when we go explore another district's area and follow the map, we can leave some stuff here, in our section.

I find a stream, and flowing from it is fresh water. I fill up the empty canteens and start heading back to Mist. And suddenly, I hear a scream, coming directly from our camp.

"Please, please don't kill me!" a voice sobs.

It's Mist.

I lose all control of my body and start sprinting toward camp. As I approach, I see the tributes from District 4 taunting her with her axe, heating the blade over the fire and holding it up to her face as the others pin her down. When they remove it, there is a huge brand mark on her face. Her screams continue.

I snap out of my daze. I notice that one in particular is the leader of the group. His name is Wyatt, from District 5, I remember. If I kill him, maybe the others will collapse and retreat

I quietly creep behind Wyatt. He and Zipna, the female from his district, are standing next to each other, overseeing the operation. I see Mist's eyes on me, and I mouth, Don't look at me! but she gives me away. The two of them turn to face me, but as they turn, I slice right through their stomachs, cutting both of them in half. Their bodies fall to the ground. The two tributes that were holding Mist now have her axe in their hands and are holding it up to Mist's throat, creating a small incision.

"Fletch no-" she manages to get out as the tributes press the axe further into her neck.

"Now, let's all be reasonable here…" I say, and then I spring into action. I first kill the tribute who was holding Mist's axe as Mist stands up.

"We outnumber you now, Kai" I say to the remaining boy from District 4. His name is Kai.

"No, please, I just want to see my family again, please please…" Kai rambles on.

Mist lets him beg for a while and then mercilessly slices his head off. It lands on the ground with a big thump. I stare at her in silence for a while.

"Come on, we have to pack up," I say.

She nods, and we pack up our things and head toward the mine. It turns out to only be a few passages, and I memorize the route in and out very quickly.

After a couple hours of nursing Mist's wounds with only water, I hear the sound of a parachute just outside the cave. I run to it, and catch it before it hits the ground. There is a note inside on a small, folded piece of paper. It reads:

Mist,

Stay strong. This should help the burns.

-H

I run back inside to tell her. The cream is smooth, with a tanish color. I wipe the cream on her burns and then tell her about the note. She grabs it from my hand, reads it, and then holds it against her chest, like a valuable. I sigh. I don't want to betray her, but I have to. There is no other option.

I look back at her. The cream has soaked into her skin, and the burns were disappearing from her face.

"The burns! Mist they're better!" I exclaim as I take her head into my hands.

"What?" she asks, confused.

"Look!" I say as I bring her over to the pool of dripping water in the cave.

"You're right!" she says, relieved. There is a long pause.

"So, what now?" she asks.

"We should start exploring the other districts. District 3, maybe. Its close to the careers but not in their territory," I say.

She nods. I'm relieved. Maybe this won't be so bad! I think, Maybe we will both get out of this, and I won't have to deal with my conscience!

I highly doubt that.

* * *

Peeta

The Capital

Day 1 of the Games

"Are. You. KIDDING ME!"

Oh no.

Katniss and I are standing in front of Haymich, who is screaming at us at the top of his lungs.

"You are her mentors. Not me. You. You are not supposed to have a bias towards one or the other-"

"How could you expect us not to?" Katniss cuts him off, "He's our son!"

"Well, you should have thought of that before you started these goddamn games, sweetheart!"

"Look, Haymich, we can be reasonable here-" I say before Haymich cuts me off.

"Reasonable? You wanna be reasonable with me, Peeta? You betrayed our truce. Our pact. Our deal!"

"We know. People are out for our heads," I say.

"You're damn right they are! There are stakes as high as million of dollars for your deaths on the black market. They all know that the games are rigged. They all know. It's gonna be another rebellion, and its all gonna be your fault!" he screams, "And you know what? Your son is gonna be leading it!"

There is silence. But not the good kind. This silence is deafening, although there is no sound. The tension between the three of us does not break or falter one bit, and everyone's rage does not fade or die out. This is the kind of silence that I hate the most.

Silence in District 12 usually meant that people were starving and they didn't have the strength to scream or cry out for help. Or it meant that someone had died and the people were mourning. Or, to me personally, silence meant that I was gonna be in for a good beating from my mother. My parents gave me my own horrific reality. My father was humble, while my mother was self-centered, my father was kind, my mother was ruthless and cruel. They were opposites.

And now they're both dead.

Losing my parents after the rebellion (mother to bombings, father to disease) was one of the hardest things to overcome. Even after I had been in the games. It isn't top the list of scary, horrific, and sad things that have happened to me, but it's definitely up there.

When that happened, Katniss was there for me. We hurt together. After losing her father in the mines and her mother after the rebellion, we knew we had been to hell and back in a short period. A very short period. Most people's childhoods aren't that rough.

"Okay, okay. Let's all agree on dealing with our own child. You could have sent anything in with Mist, and I wouldn't have stopped you. You could have sent her in with a damn shotgun and I wouldn't have said anything-"

"But Panem would have!" Haymich roars, "Panem wants these games to be fair!"

Another uncomfortable, horrifying silence.

"No more tricks. No more, or you'll both be dead before anyone leaves that arena," Haymich says and he leaves the room, beer still in hand.

"Sheesh. That was bad," Katniss says.

"I know. But it will only get worse," I say.

My mind thinks of Fletch. And how much he is suffering and has suffered. And I pray that he won't have to suffer much longer.

PLEASE READ AN!

How's it going readers! This is it! The start of the games! And I could not be more excited for what's coming next! If you guys have any suggestions for the plot, please tell me! This is your story. You should be able to control what happens! Anyhow, I am really enjoying writing this book. I got complaints about how short the last chapter was, and I tried to fix that! Please, please, please give me comments, feedback, and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism in the comments below! It doesn't take more than a couple seconds for you to help me out and improve my writing. If you like this story, be sure to favorite and/or follow it! More coming very very soon!

-L.T.C.F


	9. We Can Save Each Other

**AN:**

 **Hi guys! Wow! I am cranking out chapters very fast right now. Summer is here, and I have a lot more free time to write. If you are reading any of my other stories, I am going to finish this story before I move to any other story. If you want me to continue another story after this one or create a sequel to this one, let me know! I would be happy to continue this book as a series! Thank you for continuing to read!**

 **-L.T.C.F**

Chapter 9

Mist

Day 4 of the Games

"Good morning, sleepyhead!"

I groan. Where am I? I think, Haymich isn't waking me up early again, is he?

I soon realize he isn't. I realize that I am being shook awake by Fletch, in a cave in the Hunger Games.

It's been four days in the games, and I already am sick of it. I thought that I would be able to at least get through a week, but I overestimated myself.

"Wha-"

"Shh!" Flech urgently shushes me. He turns around and checks his surroundings, like something is gonna pounce on him.

"There are people here. We have to get out of here now!" he whisper-screams.

I jerk upright. I feel my face. The scars are healed. I grab my axe that is resting beside me.

"Where are they?" I whisper.

"Just up the corridor."

"Do you know what district?"

"It looks like District 6."

I breathe out. Just 6. Not the careers. But still, more slaughtering. More blood on my hands. More deaths on my conscience-

Fletch pulls me up. He motions to my axe.

"Hold it up," he tells me.

My hand is shaking. He lets go of my arm. We creep through the caverns of the cave. I can hear the echoes of the other tributes' voices, laughing like this was just another day. But it's not, I remind myself. Or my mind reminds me. I can't tell the difference anymore.

"...and I bet I'll beat the crap outta him too!" a male voice shouts. Laughter.

"Not if I beat you to him first!" another male voice yells.

"Oh Fleeeeeetch!" a female voice calls.

"Oh oh oh! What about the girl? What do we do with her?" the male shouts.

"Leave her to die, I guess? All we need is the boy. I want to kill him. His mother killed my mother!" a girl says.

I glance over at Fletch. He looks shaken, almost, broken. Shocked.

"I-" he starts, "I didn't know that."

He's staring at his hands. They are shaking furiously.

"I-I-I I killed someone. With my own hands! I killed another human, just as innocent and helpless as me!"

I put my hand on his shoulder, the only act of kindness I can muster in this situation.

"It's gonna be okay. But right now, we have to get out of here," I tell him in a low, calm voice.

He nods like a little kid.

"Okay," he says.

I keep my hand on his shoulder and we slowly move toward the voices. We have no plan, and we are running in blind. What a fantastic idea, I think.

We continue toward the voices until we are around the corner from them. I motion for Fletch to pull out his sword. He does so, reluctantly.

"Okay, when I hold my hand up in the air like this," I demonstrate, "We turn the corner and attack. This will only work if we both attack them at the same time. Remember, they are expecting us."

I take a deep breath. I plan and prepare for the chaos that is to come. And then, I hold up my hand.

We burst around the corner at an alarming speed. The other tributes knew we were in the cave, but they didn't expect us so quickly. It takes them a couple of seconds to regain their senses and draw their weapons.

I make the first move around the corner. I come around the corner waving my axe frantically, and manage to connect with the females from 6 and 7, Casey and Ivy. Fletch follows close behind, and slashes through the male from 7, Aspen. As soon as Fletch does this, the male from 6 falls to his knees over Casey's body, screaming and crying. Fletch and I back away, and give him his moment. I try to think of how we are going to kill him.

"No, no, no! This can't be! I can't live without out her!" he cries out.

"I love you, Casey," he says. Fletch and I turn to each other in confusion.

And then he does something Fletch and I never expected. He takes his knife, and he stabs himself right through his heart.

He suicided. For her.

* * *

Katniss

Day 4 of the Games

The Capital

Cameras flash in my eyes as I leave the Gamemaker Center. Peeta bursts through the doors not a second later. I pretend not to notice his frantic waving and yelling and just keep walking. The paparazzi are questioning me on Apollo, the boy from 6.

"Quiet down, quiet down!" I snap at them, "Now, I am not sure myself what just happened, and the Capital will get back to you with more information very soon."

As soon as I finish my sentence, the crowd bursts into motion again, yelling, trying to get their question in to me. Don't they know already that I don't answer questions? I think. Behind me, Peeta is trying to get to every interviewer as possible to make sure everyone is happy. Frankly, it pisses me off now how genuine and happy and reassuring he is. Gah! Why did I have to marry a nice person? I think.

I continue to walk, until Peeta catches up to me. And then, I grab his arm and run.

We sprint around the corner and into the tunnels. We lock the door behind us. The paparazzi run right by.

Silently, we walk back to the tribute building. We run into no Capital staff or mentors. Everything is in shock. The world is stopping.

Peeta finally breaks the silence, "You know, you're gonna have to make a public statement."

"I know," I say while looking straight ahead.

Silence.

"You don't have to act like this around me, you know. I am your husband," he says.

"I know I don't Peeta!" I snap, "Someone just killed themself! In my games! This is my fault! They killed themself for someone they love, because of me! I killed them! I killed them!"

I collapse to the ground, overwhelmed by my emotions. Peeta kneels down beside me, a comforting figure.

"Don't you see? A rebellion is coming, and it's coming fast. People are going to kill me. They're going to hunt me down and kill me!" I finish.

We stay on the hard cold floor like that for a while, until I pull him in for a kiss. Not just like any other kiss for the cameras. No, a real kiss. One I haven't had in a while. He goes with it, and kisses me back. I pull away.

"Thank you," I breathe.

"Yeah," he says.

"Peeta-" I say, unsure of something inside me, something I can't quite place. But I know that I want to get through it with him.

"Stay with me," I say.  
"Always."

We make our way to the tribute building, but instead of paparazzi to greet us, it is a wave of angry mentors, Haymich being one of them.

Once I get them all calmed down, some by force, I make a statement:

"Guys, guys! We all know there is something seriously wrong with these games. This is not how I planned it, not how Peeta planned it, or how the gamemakers planned it. Things are getting out of hand. I will come out with a statement tomorrow for the press to let them know that things are under control and are being handled. For now, stay calm, and continue to help your tributes. Good luck."

This time, the room doesn't go into shock. There is a small, peaceful silence, and everyone disperses. I sigh. What did I do? I think, Why did I do this?

I make my way to the top floor balcony. I am surrounded by the sounds of the Capital. Most of the residents here are government officials, military staff, or the gamemakers. However, at this time of year, some citizens of Panem move out here to watch and experience the games firsthand. The city is bustling tonight, but up here, I rise above everything. Just like a Mockingjay, I think. But I am not the mockingjay anymore. I am a killer. I am a murderer. I am torturing these kids the way I was tortured when I was their age. History really does repeat itself.

"Peeta was right, damnit Peeta was right!" I sigh. As usual, however. Peeta seems to always be right.

"I heard that," a voice echos behind me.

"Just admitting how guilty I am out here, Peeta," I tell him, "Well, you were right."

"I know," he says, putting his hands casually into his pockets.

I try not to laugh because this is a serious moment, but I do anyway. It doesn't lighten the mood.

"Why did I do this?" I say.

"I don't know. You probably thought it was best," he says.

"I guess you're right," I say, "Again."

We sit out there for hours, not saying anything, but giving each other comfort. Comfort feels pretty good right now.

"We could fly in there and save Fletch, you know," I say.

"We could but we won't," he answers me.

I shut up, and we fall asleep under the stars.

The cameraman gives me a 'three, two, one, action' and I begin my speech for Panem, one that I know will define me as a leader of this country:

"Hello, Panem. As we all have just recently witness, Apollo, from District 6, has killed himself in the arena. No one expected this. This was not a planned action. Government officials are looking into the action, and suspect that Apollo did it out of love for his fellow tribute. However, there is no physical evidence to prove why he did this.

"My thoughts go out to the families with tributes in these games. I will tell you that these games mean something more than any other game. It is not an honor, but a curse to be placed in the arena. I know this from experience.

"I know that some of you are asking why I did this, because I went through the pain and horror that your children or siblings are going through now. Well, I did it to prevent something from happening. I did it to prevent a rebellion. The last time our country went through a rebellion, thousands of people died, including my sister, Prim. She was killed in a bombing performed by the rebels, the good guys.

"I tell all of you now that this may be the last games to ever occur. To watch people lose their lives due to me has been...heartbreaking. I can barely watch anymore. But I must. Because this is what I have done to this country. I have brought it to its knees.

"I think about all of the tributes lives that were lost in my games. Rue, Thresh, Cato, the list goes on. I think about them every day, and how they must be watching over me. I think about their brave actions and heroic sacrifices. There is nothing more I would want than to bring back everyone who has lost their life to these games. But unfortunately, I do not have the power. I would give my own life to save others.

"So at this time I will tell you to do one thing: stay together. We can get through this time, and when it's over, I will end the Hunger Games for good. But creating rebellions is only going to lose more lives. More innocent lives. More lives will be lost than ever before. I promise, I will make this up to you. I know how many people are starving, in poor living conditions, fighting for survival. Trust me, I was there too. But someone saved me. And maybe if we all start reaching out with kindness, we can all save each other."


End file.
